The Syrian people have been living in crisis for several years, and their situation continues to worsen. In recent weeks the overwhelming challenges facing refugees and internally displaced persons have been in the news with greater regularity, due in part to sorrowful stories of deaths while en route to seek sanctuary in Europe. Many countries that should be hosting people in need are, instead, tightening their borders.

We are meant to carry each other, to show compassion, to reach out with love to those in need. If you are looking for a way to contribute financial resources, I highly recommend reading about the work of Mercy Corps.

Many ordinary citizens are reaching out and trying to offer assistance, urging their governments to adopt humane and welcoming policies. This morning I read of the first refugees arriving not far from my home in southeastern Pennsylvania. In my area, Church World Service is one of the agencies coordinating welcome for Syrian families.

In The Other Face of God, Mary Jo Leddy shares stories of her life at Romero House, a home for people who are, for now, refugees seeking a new home. Her stories describe the lives of individuals with whom she has lived, and out of her experiences a theology of neighborliness and justice emerges. How does the stranger “calls us home”? In Leddy’s words, “Living in the shelter of each other, we begin to live in the neighborhood of God.” This is a powerful book, full of passion and deep faith. As I read, the prophet Micah’s words rang in my heart: “What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?”

Through living in Romero House in Toronto for more than twenty years, Leddy has built relationships not only with those living in her house, but in the neighborhood. In building relationships with Romero House residents, Leddy has experienced the critical importance of respecting individual people, not treating people as a “cause” or an “issue.” Strangers can become neighbors when we learn to truly see one another. The distance between “us” and “them” disappears when people work alongside one another to plant a garden, to plan a party, to care for the needy in their midst.

Borders and boundaries between people do not need to be viewed as barriers. Rather, they can be meeting places. When we meet in a spirit of compassion, that meeting place can be full of the Holy Spirit. In Leddy’s view, a Christian should not try “to see Christ in the poor,” but to recognize that the spirit of Christ lives along the border—between you and I, between one and another, wherever compassion meets suffering.

Her narrative addresses the harsh and discouraging realities that people who are living without a country must face. The bureaucratic hurdles for those seeking residency and employment are many, and indifferent to individuality. I appreciated that Leddy drew upon Hannah Arendt‘s analysis of bureaucratic systems, and I think she did so in a way that would be very clear for readers without background in political philosophy. As a counter to the indifference of systems, people of faith are called to love our “enemies.” Leddy provides an insightful analysis of the ways that governments can turn “strangers” into “enemies” to further their political agendas.

Through her life and her writing, Leddy offers a powerful call for the works of mercy to be given “a place of privilege” in religious communities. Like the merciful Samaritan in Luke 10, we must help the stranger in need. We must be willing to truly see the face of a stranger, rather than a “problem,” and to allow compassion to emerge. We must remember that the parable ends with the command of Jesus that we “go and do likewise.”

Amidst the diversity of religious beliefs and places of origin, “perhaps there is only one distinction that matters: those who are learning to love their neighbors and those who remain indifferent to them.”

In the past few weeks, when I sit down to write my book reviews, I simply cannot concentrate. Instead of writing, I revisit news sites, reading too much about the humanitarian crisis in Syria. I have a stack of wonderful books awaiting their reviews, yet I cannot share them with you today.

Today, I ask you to pray. Please, pray the God in God’s mercy will bring peace to Syria. Pray that God in God’s mercy will transform hearts so that justice and true security are restored to the people.

After you pray, please consider making a donation to Mercy Corps. They are doing wonderful work to help Syrian refugees with shelter, clean water, and trauma counseling. Imagine, nearly 2 million people have had to flee their homes. More than half of those people are children. Even if you only can spare a dollar, donate before August 31 and your donation will be doubled.

To me, prayer fundamentally is a mysterious experience. There is no way to explain it to someone who does not pray, or who thinks prayer is unnecessary. Prayer is something that has to be experienced. As for intercessory prayer, former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams describes intercession simply as “thinking of someone or something in the presence of God.”

Over the years I have heard a wide range of questions about prayer from non-religious people: If God knows everything, why would God need you to pray for someone who is sick?; if God knows best, won’t God either heal or not heal, according to God’s own wishes?; why would God listen to one person’s prayer but not another’s? After reading “Pray for Me,” I feel better equipped to answer these questions—even though some of the answers remain very open-ended, grounded in mystery.

I agree with Carter that prayer is not asking God to fulfill wishes. Rather, prayer offers a path for growing in love for one another, for deepening our compassion, for learning to trust the outcomes to God and trust in God’s grace. If I say I will pray for someone, I am agreeing to enter into their pain or suffering, to stand with them, to cultivate a larger heart. On the spiritual path we are called to live in community and care for one another. Prayer can help us remember our interconnectedness. Ultimately, prayer is not for God, but a way of reminding ourselves to put God at the center, and to put the needs of others before our own needs.

As I read this helpful book, I kept hearing a lyric from U2’s “One”: “We get to carry each other.” It is the short answer to why I gladly will pray for others. May we grow in love for one another, and not lose heart.

Disclosure: I received a copy of this book gratis from Upper Room Books.